


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #31

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [34]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dogs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Pets, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:19:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked you: Crema verse - not really a prompt but just a request for more Pav please!!</p><p>Anonymous asked you: Crema Prompt: with all the crap going on I feel we need something fluffy. How about sick Kurt/Blaine or Pav?! Love your work x</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #31

Blaine is almost,  _almost_  asleep, stretched out under the blankets, and letting the familiar scent of laundry and Kurt’s cologne lull him into relaxation.  It’s gotten a little too warm for the thick, fluffy comforter from the winter, but it’s just right for the lighter duvet that Kurt pulled out of the closet and draped across their bed back in April.  Blaine is perfectly cozy, just half a breath from sleep when he feels Kurt tapping at his bare shoulder.  It’s been a long week – fuck, it’s been a long couple of  _months_.  Between planning the wedding, starting his new job for an off-Broadway production, and keeping some of his shifts at Starbucks, Blaine can’t always remember his name by the time he gets home.  The arches of his feet are sore from hours and hours standing behind the bar; his fingers ache from pulling shots and steaming milk and pounding away at piano keys.

“Hey?” Kurt’s voice is pitched low and Blaine’s belly tightens, the way it always does when Kurt’s breath ghosts across his sensitive ear.

“Hrrmm?” Blaine mumbles.  He doesn’t bother to open his eyes, just shifts back and tries to find Kurt’s body behind him.  He’s exhausted, but just the thought of Kurt’s long, strong form pressed all along his back, rocking slow and careful, makes Blaine’s skin tingle. 

“Did you feed Pav tonight?”

Blaine just grunts.  Of course he didn’t feed Pav – dinner is Kurt’s responsibility; Blaine takes care of breakfast.  They figured  _that_  out the first week of having Pavarotti in their lives, when they both kept refilling her bowl with the strangely expensive dog food Kurt insisted on.  Pav never turned down a meal, and it wasn’t until Blaine wandered into the kitchen to find Kurt pouring more kibble into the heavy, ceramic dish just fifteen minutes after he’d done the same thing that they figured out what was going on.  They’d set up the schedule after that.  Pav had pouted at them for two days, her big brown eyes even worse than Blaine’s, until she’d gotten used to it. 

“Blaine, did you?”  Kurt’s voice is oddly worried and it starts to creep under the layers of sleep and subtle, slow-burning arousal.  Blaine reaches back for the hand resting light and warm on his shoulder and tugs, trying to get Kurt to curl around him.

“Nope.  Jus’ breakfast, as always.”  Blaine drags his lips across Kurt’s knuckles.

“She hasn’t eaten her dinner,” Kurt continues.  The stress and concern evident in his voice makes Blaine’s eyes finally flutter open. 

“M’be she’s not hungry?”

“When is she ever not hungry?”

"Maybe she just doesn’t feel good?” Blaine finally rolls onto his back, since he doesn’t seem to be getting either sleep or sex.  Kurt is propped up on one of his elbows, leaning over him, and there’s a furrow between his lovely eyebrows.  “Dogs get upset stomachs too.”

“She was fine earlier though.” 

"Well, maybe she got into something at the Park?  Dogs eat the weirdest things.  Maybe she found a dead squirrel. Or a hotdog?"  Blaine is pretty sure he saw Pav eat _something_  she’d pulled out from behind a bush.

Kurt’s nose scrunches up and it’s all Blaine can do to not rise up and kiss the tip of that adorable nose.  “Blaine." 

"Why are you so worried?"  Blaine sometimes forgets that Kurt never had a pet growing up.  He can’t see her, but when Blaine fell into bed not half an hour ago, Pav was curled up in a little ball on her bed on the floor of their bedroom, where she always slept.

"Because she’s our puppy and she’s not eating. We should take her to the vet."  Kurt makes a move to get out of bed, but Blaine grabs his arm and pulls him back.  Kurt falls across his chest and his legs tangle easy, naturally, with Blaine’s.  His expression is still so concerned. 

"It’s 11 o’clock at night.”  Blaine strokes his thumb across Kurt’s lower lip.  “All that’s open are emergency clinics.  And she’s  _fine_.  I promise."

"But how do you  _know_?"  Kurt’s lips purse as he presses a kiss to the pad of Blaine’s thumb.

“Kurt, darling.”  Blaine cranes up and manages to brush his lips against Kurt’s, and Kurt makes a small, pleased noise from deep in his throat.  “If she’s not eating by tomorrow, then we’ll call the vet, ok?”

“Fine.” Kurt’s tongue slides against Blaine’s lower lip and Blaine grips him closer, thighs shifting apart; his sleepiness is slipping away fast.  “But if she gets worse, it’s your fault.” 

“Fine.”  Blaine slides his hand down the length of Kurt’s strong, naked back.  His fingers brush the smooth curve of the top of Kurt’s ass when a horrible, wet, hacking noise from just beyond the bed makes him pause and shudder uncomfortably.

Blaine knows the sound of a dog throwing up.

“You, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt says against his lips.  “Are in big, big trouble.”


End file.
